


Billy's Lament

by Anonymous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Boys In Love, Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5
Collections: anonymous





	Billy's Lament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/gifts).



”Do we agree with one another?”

His father’s barking sent the most unpleasant feeling through his body, rendering him completely mute, and that alone made him panic. He had learned by now that if you didn’t answer fast enough _and_ said the right thing you were likely to take a beating. Billy had had enough of that in his days, not only physical punches – those healed eventually, it was the mental torture that was the worst – that shit didn’t heal.

“Boy?!”

His father was losing patience by the second and he knew he better answer fast.

Yes…”

“Yes, what?!”

“Yes, sir…”

He met his father’s eyes briefly and what he saw made his stomach churn. Hate. Ice-cold hate was coursing through this man’s body and Billy’s nostrils flared subtly just to be able to breathe properly.

His father leaned his head in, a little too close for comfort. Little puffs of air hit Billy’s face every time his father exhaled and it made Billy hold his breath and stand as still as he possibly could. _If I don’t make a move maybe he won’t lash out_.

“Good,” Neil barked in his ear, quietly enough for only Billy to hear. “Useless brat.”

Then he was out of there as fast as he had first entered. His father was great at taken the liberty of not knocking, he would just storm in there whenever he had the desire to berate Billy for leaving dishes out or not picking up his “goddamn weights” as Neil would say. It seemed like whatever Billy did he could never satisfy his father’s warped image of what he wanted him to be. He had told himself that he had stopped trying to please his father long ago and that he didn’t care, but he was still his father and a twisted, fucked-up bond was still there. He hated it, and even more – he hated himself for still allowing it to exist.

“We’re leaving now! Let’s go!”

Neil’s words echoed in the hall and bounced off the walls and into Billy’s chest, grabbing hold like a fist and squeezed him, as firm as the grip around a 44-pound dumbbell held with an outstretched arm.  
Billy’s breathing was shallow, his chest barely moved and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to breathe properly again until he heard that inevitable slam of the front door and the revving of the engine of the car as his father angrily backed it out of the drive. Only then would he be allowed some peace of mind.

Max appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, a look of sorrow in her eyes as they scanned Billy for any potential signs. She didn’t really care much for her step-brother, he hadn’t made it easy on her, but seeing Neil’s treatment of him for all these years, how could she really blame him for being an asshole of the grandest kind? She in fact hated him at times, but it was still hard for her to have to listen and experience the abuse.

“Billy… I…” her words died as Neil shouted yet again and she bit her lips together.

The uneasy feeling in Billy took over and he couldn’t stand to have anyone look at him right now, maybe he really _was_ as useless as Neil said. To protect himself he took the few steps that were needed to shut his bedroom door. He sniffed and his right hand instinctively came up to wipe his nose.

“See ya,” he said coldly right before the door shut in her face. Slumping down against the door where he drew a deep sigh and hung his head. _Fucking weak, no good piece of shit_ , was the only thing he could think.

He heard Max walk away from his door after a few seconds and how the front door eventually shut, not with that slamming, furious intensity, but a door that closes normally, and that little notion alone was enough to make him thankful in a way. Thankful that the last one leaving the house wasn’t filled to the brim with rage and hate.

His eyes darted over his messy bedroom before they inexplicably landed on a pile of magazines and one dirty sock laying on them. He was sat for a good five minutes before he peeled himself up off the floor, lit a cigarette and put the latest Metallica album on his turntable. Cranking the volume up to just the point of where it was too loud and his speakers couldn’t handle it. His action was like a symbolic “fuck you” to his father who always had an opinion about the music coming from his room. Neil wasn’t there to have a say in anything right now, but Billy still felt good about his slightly juvenile action.

He knew he was alone in the house as his “family” had left, so he opened the door to let the music free in the house, but chose to stay in his bedroom - his refuge and sanctuary - until he had listened to the album twice and chain-smoked most of his cigarettes.

As the last song came to an end he moved to stand, thinking he’d make himself a snack and then hang back and watch tv the whole evening. Since he had the rare opportunity to have the whole house to himself, the thought of actually staying home wasn’t such a source of anxiety it normally would be had there been people there now.

The radio that had been left on in the kitchen played a Beatles song at a low volume and it made his chest warm and gooey– it was probably the only group playing softer kind of music that had the ability to do that to him. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but he had loved the Beatles ever since the first time he heard them. It was his mother who had brought them into his life, and he will always remember those times they would listen to some songs before it was his bedtime and then she would tuck him in, stroke the hair from his forehead before placing a kiss there and whisper “Good night, sweet angel of mine.”  
  
Those little terms of endearments meant the world to him, and it was a time in his life where he still felt some purpose and peace of mind. That was before the growling monster that now is his father had really developed, and he could still go to sleep without a lump in his stomach and the necessary need to cover his ears to drown out the sounds of the yelling.  
He turned the volume up slightly and opened the fridge and cabinet to fix himself a sandwich.

Sitting down at the kitchen table he didn’t even notice at first that he had carved a smiley face on his grilled cheese sandwich and put M&M’s for eyes – just like his mother used to do for him when he was a child, and he was left staring at the snack on his plate for a couple of extra seconds before sighing as he picked it up to take it into the living room to watch some tv and chill, hopefully, for the rest of the night.

*

He knew keeping still wasn’t his strongest trait – it was like something was alive inside him, some weird sensation of impatience coursing through his veins, constantly, preventing him from really relaxing, so after about an hour of mindlessly watching tv, he got up, grabbed his car keys to escape himself for a few hours.

Driving was something that always relaxed him and he had lost count on the number of times his precious blue Camaro had saved him, she was always there for him and had never let him down, kinda like the guy he found himself going back to in his mind during the most mundane tasks; listening to music, smoking in the dead of the night in his room and now, now as he was driving seemingly aimlessly, at least that's what he told himself, but he had noticed he had taken all the turns and roads to get to _his_ house. Steve Harrington’s house. It was nothing serious and just a fling, something to take his mind of shit – again, that’s what he told himself, but deep down he knew the truth and it was hard to admit and say out loud. He struggled with his own feelings towards Steve and he _wanted_ to hate him - like he had done when they first met, but the truth was hard to hide from, no matter how many miles he put down behind the wheel.

Pulling up to what looked like an empty house, he stayed outside with the motor running in case he needed to make an emergency dart out of there, in case someone would see him parked there and wonder what he did in that part of town.  
A light came on in the room he had focus on and he hated himself for letting such a tiny, silly thing make his heart race, but it meant that _he’d_ be home, right? It meant that Steve was in that room. Billy knew he would be, he had told him, but he didn’t wanna be so presumptuous and _assume_ he was welcomed – even though Steve had said that he always was.  
He drew a breath and turned the engine off, knowing he needed someone tonight, knowing he couldn’t be alone with everything that went on inside him, and he hoped Steve would be so kind to at least listen. Getting out of the car, he shut the door as quietly as he could and made his way over the neatly trimmed lawn and to the light coming from Steve’s bedroom. Hesitating for a couple of seconds before he knocked on the glass, mentally shaking his head for having to do this, sneaking around like he was 14 all over again. It was a moment and the curtain was pulled aside and Steve appeared, the two of them just looking at one another before Steve broke the silence.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He could tell by the expression on Billy’s face that he wasn’t really sure and that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Billy opened his mouth to speak, but Steve beat him to the punch, “You wanna come in?” he asked, from which he got a subtle nod from Billy.

Thankfully, Steve’s bedroom was located at ground level, so he just opened the window to let Billy climb in.

“What are you doing here, man?” Steve asked, “I thought you were going away with your dad and stepmom?”

Billy scoffed slightly, not wanting to admit that they had gone away without him. Again.

“Are you alone, Harrington?”

“Yeah, they left a few hours ago.”

“Hm.”

Billy took a step past Steve to sit down on the bed, zipping down his jacket all the way down before he did.

“Eh, so what’s up, Billy?” Steve asked and cleared his throat before he started to clear away some stuff lying around, all a bit nervously in Billy’s eyes, and it made him smile although his face didn’t show any signs.

It seemed like Steve didn’t know where to put all the stuff he had in his hands, so he managed to get the closer door open with his elbow and dumped it all on the floor, shutting the door by leaning against it, then he remained there with his hands behind his back.

“Spring cleaning?” Billy asked a bit ironically from which he got a “Ha!” from Steve.

Billy dragged a hand through his hair and leaned back on the bed, supporting his weight with the other hand. Steve inadvertently gulped and tried not to stare. It was such a meaningless and boring gesture, really, but he couldn’t help how it aroused him – he _loved_ how Billy’s body flirted with his mind. _So damn effortlessly_.  
The boys locked eyes and Steve had to swallow since the heartbeats in his throat threatened to choke him, subtly tapping one foot on the floor simultaneously to try and shift his attention there. Billy picked up on Steve’s little traits and his face softened since he knew _he_ had the upper hand.

“Are you checking me out, Harrington?”

“Uhhm, No?”

“Well, you should be.”

Steve scoffed and took advantage of the new-found courage in him, so he moved to stand in front of Billy who, very imperceptible, pulled his knees away from one another as he looked up at Steve, creating the safe space with his legs he knew Steve craved as much as he himself did.

“Take your jacket off,” Steve said as the fingers on his right hand combed through Billy’s hair.

“You’re the ones giving orders now?”

“Yeah, well… What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Billy said, shrugging the leather jacket off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, “I just find it very cute when you take charge.”

Steve dipped his head, “Hargrove, shut up,” he breathed against his lips.

“Yes, sir.”


End file.
